And You've Got the Face On
by RaptorSaysRawr
Summary: You're in trouble again, aren't you?


_I was listening to the song Mardy Bum by the Arctic Monkeys when I realized it would be the perfect song for a scene between Ron and Hermione. I highly recommend you give it a listen, it's quite lovely. Do enjoy :)_

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><p><span>And You've Got the Face On<span>

Tension lines the air the moment you step over the threshold. You can feel the crackling of unrefined magic which, known to everyone that has had the pleasure of meeting her, can hardly be a good thing. The home stands quaint and charming as ever but there is that underlying effect that sets your nerves on edge.

The sterile scent of _cleanliness_ tips you off to an obvious mood. She's taken after your mother in a way: Dinner has typically been set nice and prettily on the table when you arrive home from a tough day training to be an Auror if, that is, she clocks out on time from the office. And you'd sit across from her at the small space and relay stories of your day over your meal, and she'd speak of hers with the occasional admonishment about communicating through a full mouth. Now, there's no scent of prospective meal time. The steady aroma of her fried chicken or her shepherd's pie or even her bloody _sugar free puddings_ fails to assault your nasal cavities. There's nothing. Nothing but the vague perfume of an overly clean kitchen.

She's standing there in that pristine palace of _food_ when you finally manage to gather your Gryffindor courage and proceed forward into the home. You offer a tentative smile and all you receive in return is a dull frown. Your smile slips as you wonder idly, what was that Muggle expression? Seeing that frown is like looking down the barrel of a gun. Yeah, that's what it was. She would probably be proud at your ability to remember something so obviously Mugglish…if she weren't upset over _something_.

The way she says your name nearly makes you flinch. You're a sodding Gryffindor, though, one that has the title of a war veteran tacked onto the end. But it's a chilling _Ronald_ you get today, not unlike the dozens of other times she seemed a bit malevolent. Sometimes you wonder why she wasn't in Slytherin – her glare could surely make the toughest man tremble in his dragon-hide boots. You can't help but think that there's a much more pleasant side to her, a side you much prefer. Like that candid side of her she only lets loose every now and then, where she laughs in that sweet way of hers and willingly jokes around with you. You allow yourself a brief smile at the thought and she glowers.

You're in trouble again, aren't you? She nods.

"I thought as much."

You head further into the kitchen, gently setting your cloak over the back of a chair. And she turns away, not before you can see her expression. It's that _silent disappointment_ face, the one you just can't bear. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. She snaps back to attention and gives you a good talking-to that will leave your ears ringing for weeks. You wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors were disturbed by the commotion.

The expected rage has not filtered through your system. The ball is still in her court as she continues to nitpick every little thing you've done wrong in the past week or so. You chuckle grimly, trying to lighten the mood. Doesn't she remember the cuddles in the kitchen? When everything was all sunshine and rainbows and up, up, and away? She snaps back something you can't hear (it may have been her infamous "Merlin's pants" swear hidden amongst the tide) when the urge to just _shout back_ kicks in.

Yeah, you remember the happy times of their marriage. What a blissful time that was. But now all she does is _yell_ and it's right hard to remember the bliss on a day like today. She's all argumentative and she's got that face on and she jus t _isn't being very nice_.

And you're sorry that you're late! You missed a memo so you had to return _back_ to the Auror offices and file a ridiculous amount of paperwork. And then the traffic out of the Ministry was a right state. And you refuse to carry on with this reoccurring debate when she says you don't care.

"Of course I do, I clearly do!"

You grab your cloak and storm past her, fuming about the ridiculous notions she conjures when you're just a tad bit tardy coming home. But she wraps her slender fingers around your wrist and pulls you back with a surprising amount of strength. There's a tenderness in her eyes that almost makes you melt. And then she drops the moodiness and slips her arms around you. There's a decidedly enticing scent that clings to her and buries itself in her bushy hair that you simply can't get enough of. That's the thing about her, though. She can annoy you to no end and bicker about such trivial things but she's still your girl, the one you've been in love with since your second year of school. And now hear she is, apologizing for being so _stupid_ and saying she never meant to upset you, only she misses you like crazy when you're gone.

And then your stomach rumbles and as she laughs, you decide you don't care because you're perfectly content here with her in your arms.


End file.
